They borrowed for their simchah. Then they booked a Pesach program 

Lani: You said you were struggling — so what’s with the fancy hotel program?

Chaviva: For me and my family, this is the only option

Lani

“Slight technical issue,” Chaviva announced as I came into work. I was usually at work first, but it had been a stressful morning, two kids home sick, and it took time until I could make arrangements for them to stay home while I went to work. “You know the Purim gifts we ordered for donors? Well… they arrived.”

Didn’t sound like a problem to me. I shrugged off my coat and looked around. “Where — oh, that box? It’s small!”

“Right.” Chaviva walked around the desk and popped open the box. “We ordered three hundred, right? Well, for some absurd reason, we got seventy-five.”

“Seventy-five.” I echoed. Oh boy. We’d ordered the gifts weeks in advance and centered the whole poem and theme around the gift — an elaborate Havdalah set with beautiful art design. And now we had 75 magnificent gifts to distribute — and nothing for everyone else.

“I know! What are we going to do?” Chaviva said, standing up and flipping her sheitel over her shoulder.

“Okay, so first off, we’re going to call the company, what’s their name, Gifting? And see— ”

“I already did that. They’re sold out.”

“Whew.” I took a deep breath. My mind was going in ten different directions — could we get the store to compensate for this? Did they have something else we could get for cheaper? What would we do with 75 Havdalah sets….

“We’ll just have to get something different for the rest of the donors. Where’s that spreadsheet you were making of gift ideas?”

“It wasn’t a spreadsheet. It was an email thread and I was dumping links on. But let’s see. We’ll have to do a whole new branding and design for a different gift. What a shame.”

I shrugged. “We’ll do what we have to do.” The light on my office phone was blinking; I had voicemail. Pre-Purim was rush season at the nonprofit where Chaviva and I ran the fundraising department. Well, one of the rush seasons.

“Heyyyyy, look what I have,” Chaviva sang a moment later. I abandoned my phone and leaned over her desk.

A framed picture, a print of a bright, colorful piece of artwork filled the screen.

“A painting! About Havdalah! With the same color scheme! Isn’t it brilliant?”

It was brilliant — and pricey. But if we could get some sort of discount from Glitter Gifting — right, that’s what they were called — we could maybe stretch to cover it.

“Let me call the companies,” I said.